café au lait

Esme

Sometimes, Esme found herself suffering from a huge case of existential crisis. Don't her wrong but she always wondered: what's the point of living? Is there a purpose? What should we live for? Getting a good career? Building a family?

Esme sighed as these deep thoughts filled her head. She was one of those "philosophical" types. The type where she can stare at a chair for hours and come up with a metaphor and the meaning of life, just by looking at it. She was proud of her ability to look at things with a radical perspective. Other times, she wasn't very happy about the dark thoughts that filled her head.

She contemplated this as she took a sip of her favourite flavour of coffee. She winced slightly as the hot beverage left a burning sensation down her throat. 'It's not entirely a bad feeling,' she decided.

Her coffee then reminded her of the experience at Starbucks. She rolled her eyes as she remembered how the guy at the counter flirted with her. 'He was cute,' a part of her argued. 'But guys like him are the same. The make and break,' the other part of her insisted. The argument within her head lasted for a moment or two. "Esme, you have no time for boys," she scolded. "Your studies, your courses are of your first priority,"

She climbed up the front porch and pushed open the door to her home. "Mom! I'm home," she yelled. "Wonderful!" her mum yelled back as she walked out of her studio. Her mother had a streak of bright red paint in her hair and behind her ear. She had other colours streaking her apron.

Her mother was an artist. She had a degree in law and art. She was a lawyer for a couple of years, but she decided she wasn't happy. She quit her job and decided to pursue her dreams and get a job as an artist. Her parents obviously didn't approve but she didn't care. She did what she loved. And that's what mattered.

But the Business was tough. She spent months working odd jobs, plus trying to create art pieces. It was rough. But finally, her hard work paid off. An art collector had discovered her talents. He then hired her to sell her paintings and to be his art consultant. Her paintings grew in value. She started to get recognized for her talents and she began to make a name for herself. And that was when she met Esme's father.

They met at an art gallery where they were studying the same painting. The Persistence Of Memory by Salvador Dali. She then stole his heart by listing out his entire life story. He got her number. They kept in touch. They dated for a while. Then she broke the news. She was pregnant. Their relationship ended amicably and her father left her the very next day.

Esme's mother had to raise a child all on her own. But her baby girl was like the Dresdon Green Diamond; she was the most precious thing to her. She felt that Esme was unique. The same way the one and only Green Diamond was. There will only be one and only one Esme Dior in the world.

Esme walked over to the kitchen sink and turned the faucet on. She grabbed a clean dishcloth and wet it with lukewarm water. "So mom," She started, having a go at a feeble attempt to make conversation. "Watcha' workin on?" Esme gently wiped away the paint stains on her mother's face while she talked.

"Oh you know... Just something ordinary..."

Esme had always loved to look at her mother's work. She loved to feel the texture of the paint on a canvas. Even though Esme couldn't do art to save her life, she still appreciated it. Being the total nerd she was, she had a secret love for visiting museums. Art museums especially. She loved visiting the MOMA; Museum of Modern Art. That's where her parents first met.

"Can I see?" Her mother's face lit up, just like it always does, when Esme takes an interest in her work. She wordlessly led her into the studio and turned on the lights. Esme studied the room carefully. She saw that a plastic sheet surrounded the canvas her mother was working on and was splattered with a multitude of colours.

'Damn... If had a pair of jeans like that...' She thought to herself with a grin.

She walked closer to the canvas to inspect the piece. As usual, it took her breath away. She created a collage in painting. When Esme was bored, she took pleasure in creating collages of pictures with an app on her phone. But her mother's work was astounding. Each part of her canvas had a different theme to it. The top left corner showed a girl playing the violin. The bottom right showed a girl reading books. The bottom left depicted a boy creating a sculpture. The top right showed a boy holding a camera. Each setting had different colours, textures. The centre was left untouched. After all, it was work in progress.

Esme stepped closer. She ran her fingertips where her mother had placed her signature.

"Done by: Cressida Dior." She read a loud. "Mom this is beautiful!"

Her mom grinned broadly. "Thank you, honey. Do you want to know what it's about?" Esme nodded. "Well, look at the four corners of the painting. You see different scenarios right? What I'm working on is to show different forms of art. Ranging from music to photography to dancing. Different ways of expression; media. All sorts. I plan to add more fields in the places I left untouched. I took inspiration from Pablo Picasso." While her mom talked about her work, Esme noticed she seemed to grow alive. The years of hard work seem to disappear from her eyes.

She sat down on the chaise lounge by the corner of the studio and gave a tiny flick of her wrist, which her mother understood as, 'you can carry on working while I do some reading.'

She didn't need to be told twice. While Cressida worked, she noticed that Esme had left the room and returned with a stack of books in her hands. She dumped them on the lounge and proceeded to get some studying done for an upcoming test. But her mother painting had distracted her.

Esme watched, fascinated, as her mother's paintbrush flew across the canvas in light, delicate strokes. She guided the brush with a close precision, her brows furrowed in deep concentration. Esme thought her passion and love for her work was beautiful. She watched with adoring eyes, the same way she did when she was five. But she shook herself out of it and opened her copy of the Grey's Anatomy with a sigh.

"Let's get this over with shall we?"